Marta Perry - Unlikely Hero

Brendan held out his hand for Claire to shake, his face serious but with a smile lurking in those changeable eyes. “Only if they agree. That’s the other part of our deal.”

“Fine. They’ll agree.”

“I told Stacy you’d be at the church tonight around nine.” He got off her desk. “And we’re having dinner with Nolie and Gabe at the Flanagan house at six. We can find out then what kind of wedding they really want.”

She glared at him. “For a minister you’re something of an opportunist, you know that?”

He grinned. “For a businesswoman, you’re something of a do-gooder, Ms. Delaney. Maybe we bring out the best in each other.”

“Or the worst.”

He headed for the door. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling, or relaxing with a good book.

Marta loves hearing from readers and she’ll write back with a signed bookplate or bookmark. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001 New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

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Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend

on your own understanding. Seek His will in

all you do and He will direct your paths.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

This story is dedicated to Alice Dyne, with love

and thanks for all she does for others.

And, as always, to Brian.

Dear Reader,

I’m so glad you decided to pick up this book and I hope my story touched your heart. The faith struggle Claire and Brendan went through on their way to a happy ending meant a lot to me.

I found it fun to relive the excitement and stress of planning a wedding. I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t have a story to tell of all the things that went wrong!

I hope you’ll write and let me know how you liked this story. Address your letter to me at Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, and I’ll be happy to send you a signed bookplate or bookmark. You can also visit me on the Web at www.martaperry.com, or e-mail me at marta@martaperry.com.

Blessings,

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

“You’re wrong, that’s all.” Claire Delany had a fleeting doubt about speaking that way to a minister, but dismissed it. No clerical collar would deter her from saying what she thought.

Not that Brendan Flanagan was wearing a clerical collar. She glanced at him as he held the door and then followed her from the church gym into a hallway that had classrooms on either side. Gray sweatpants and a navy sweatshirt, battered sneakers, disheveled chestnut brown hair tumbling onto his forehead. Only a hint of gravity in his lean face and hazel eyes suggested that he had anything more serious than a game of basketball on his mind.

“Maybe I am wrong.” Brendan’s voice, a baritone rumble, was mild. “But when Gabe asked me to officiate, I understood him to say they wanted a small, quiet wedding with no fuss.”

“Gabe may have said that—” she tried the no-non-sense voice she was known for at work “—but I know what kind of wedding Nolie has dreamed of all her life. I don’t want her to give up her dream wedding just because they’re so busy right now with the new project.”

The grant her best friend had recently received would let Nolie and Gabe expand their service animal project to many more disabled people. She understood how important that was, but Nolie shouldn’t have to sacrifice having a memorable wedding because of it.

Brendan came to a halt next to a bulletin board covered with orange and yellow construction paper leaves, printed with what she supposed were children’s names. She stopped, too, swinging to face him. He was tall, like all the Flanagan men, and even the two-inch heels she wore for work didn’t give her enough height to confront him.

He was probably good at intimidating with his height, those keen eyes and that air of authority that went along with being a minister, but she wasn’t going to let him force his views onto her, no matter how self-assured he was.

“Nolie is my closest friend,” she said firmly. “If she doesn’t have the time right now to handle the wedding arrangements, then I’ll be happy to take care of them for her.”

Brendan raised an eyebrow. “Gabe is my cousin as well as my friend and parishioner. And I intend to listen to what he says they want.”

He had her on the parishioner business. Gabe was a member of Brendan’s church. Nolie probably would be soon, as well. Her friend was being absorbed into the big, noisy Flanagan clan at a rapid rate, and Brendan’s church was obviously an important part of their lives.

As for her—well, her mother had taken her to church when she was a child, but after her mother’s death, her father hadn’t set foot inside a church with her. Other than attending a wedding or two, she’d followed his pattern. Religion was a foreign country to her, one she didn’t have any interest in exploring.

She tried another tack. “Maybe Gabe just doesn’t care. A wedding is more for the bride, anyway.”

Brendan’s eyes weren’t the Irish blue of his Flanagan cousins. Instead they were a mutable hazel, and at the moment they looked as remote, green and frosty as an Alpine lake.

“A wedding is a solemn event in the spiritual lives of two people, not an excuse for a party.”

Now he really was putting on his minister hat. She was tempted to point out that the wedding decisions weren’t really up to him, but he’d simply turn that argument back on her. They weren’t up to her, either, until Gabe and Nolie agreed with her suggestions.

She’d already seen how close all the Flanagans were. The only way to win this was to have Pastor Brendan on her side. Then she could present Nolie with a fait accompli instead of a what-if.

“I’m not talking about turning the wedding into a riot, Pastor. Just making it beautiful and memorable. Surely you don’t have any theological objections to that.”